


A Very Merry Turksmas

by Nemi_Almasy



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Shinra Week, Smut, This year has sucked so I just want my favs to have some fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Almasy/pseuds/Nemi_Almasy
Summary: Series of Holiday-themed prompts for Shinra week - mostly quick, cute, fluffy Tsengru
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII), Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 24
Kudos: 66
Collections: Shinra Holiday 2020





	1. Bake It 'Til You Make It

“Why are we doing this again?” Reno asked, struggling to tie a novelty apron that had a woman’s body in a bikini printed across the front of it. “Hey partner, a little help?”

Rude sighed and moved behind Reno to help him secure the apron.

Next to them, Tseng stood wearing an apron that blended in perfectly with his suit - he was the only one who wasn’t wearing a festive sweater beneath his apron, his expression a mask of neutrality as he awaited Elena’s direction.

“We’re doing this,” Elena huffed, tugging at the neck of her obscenely warm fuzzy Yule sweater, “because it’ll help lift the boss’ spirits. And anyway I used to bake holiday cookies with my mom when I was a little girl.” She rolled up her sleeves and stomped over to the kitchen counter where Tseng had meticulously laid out all of the ingredients listed on her mother’s cookie recipe.

“If we’re not careful, Reno might burn down the kitchen,” said Rude.

Reno frowned. “I can cook _some_ things.”

“I’ve seen you burn pasta in water, Reno.”

Reno waved a dismissive hand and folded his arms across his chest.

“We should get to work,” Tseng suggested.

“Right.” Elena squared her shoulders and placed her hands on her hips, pushing a strand of hair from her eyes and grabbing her mother’s recipe. “Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.” She looked up and found the oven already in the process of preheating and Tseng looking a little prouder of himself than she would have expected of the director of the Turks. Then again, everyone knew the boss and his health had softened up the director considerably over the last year or so.

Elena scanned the three men standing in front of her, three men she had lived and worked alongside for the last two years. She liked to think she knew them like the back of her hand, and she also liked to think she held a position of authority lately, despite being the technical rookie of the group. It had been some time since she was the doe-eyed amateur with a crush and more often than not Tseng deferred to her on the day-to-day running of the lodge.

She was _definitely_ in charge right now.

Reno leaned against the counter picking at his fingernails and tapping his foot - ever since Tseng put a strict ban on cigarettes in or around the lodge, Reno was noticeably antsier. Rude stood at attention waiting for orders from Elena, and Tseng stood checking his watch - and occasionally his phone. When Elena cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows he frowned and pocketed the phone.

“I was just making sure Ruf-just making sure the president didn’t need any assistance.”

“He can survive for an hour. I’m sure he’s taking a nap,” said Elena. “Now. Reno, you’re in charge of mixing the dry ingredients because they’re the hardest to fuck up.”

“Gee, thanks,” Reno muttered.

“Director, you can take mixing everything together.”

“A true test of my abilities,” said Tseng in that deadpan way Elena had long since learned to recognize as his joking tone.

“Rude, you and I can work together on rolling the dough and cutting out the shapes. And,” she whistled and a moment later a massive Shinra guard hound came bounding into the room. “D, you’re on cleanup duty.”

Dark Nation put her nose to the ground and sniffed for any morsels before rubbing up against Tseng’s legs and pushing her head into his hand until he finally offered her a scratch behind the ears.

“You all have copies of the recipe, right?”

The three men nodded. D lay down at Tseng’s feet and looked up expectantly, waiting for him to drop something.

Elena leaned back against the island in the center of the kitchen and watched the three men get to work. Tseng loomed next to Reno, frowning at him as he poured the flour without leveling it. When he reached for the sugar, Tseng sighed and pushed it away from him.

“Sugar’s a wet ingredient, Reno.”

“Excuse me?” Reno cocked his head. “Last time I checked sugar’s dry. Why wouldn’t it go with dry ingredients?”

For a minute, Tseng looked like he was short-circuiting. He closed his eyes and Elena imagined - as she had many times when faced with an exasperated Tseng - that he was rebooting himself. “I don’t know why it’s a wet ingredient, but sugar always goes with wet ingredients, so don’t pour it in with the flour.”

“That makes no fucking sense, you realize that right?”

“It’s a wet ingredient because you need it incorporated with the butter if you want a nice light dough,” Rude said, though neither Tseng nor Reno heard him, or if they did they didn’t care.

“Fine!” Reno growled. “I won’t mix it in with the flour. What about salt? That’s not a wet ingredient is it?”

Tseng rolled his eyes and passed Reno the salt.

Reno had barely finished mixing the dry ingredients together before Tseng snatched the bowl away from him, his wet ingredients already well beaten and ready for the dry mixture. He took his time tilting a small amount of the mixture into the bowl of wet ingredients while Reno watched him with furrowed brows.

“What the hell are you moving so slowly for, huh?” he demanded. He grabbed the bowl containing the dry mixture and dumped it into the wet mixture all at once, sending a plume of flour directly up into Tseng’s face. Tseng coughed and took a step back while D went to licking up loose flour from the floor.

“ _RENO!_ ”

But Reno was too busy laughing to apologize. Elena couldn’t help but giggle too at the sight of Tseng’s entire front half covered in flour, his hair dusted with it. He wiped his face off to the best of his ability and went about mixing the rest of the dry mixture in with the wet with exaggerated turns of his arm, glaring pointedly at Reno as he did so.

“You’re doing a great job, director.”

“ _Thank you_.” Tseng replied tersely.

As soon as he was done mixing, he shoved the bowl at Rude and stepped away from the counter. “I’m going to go clean this mess off of me.”

“Ah, relax. It’s just a little flour,” said Reno.

In retaliation, Tseng stuck his hand in the dough and flung a piece at Reno before stepping out of the kitchen. Rude and Elena burst into a fit of giggles and Reno shrugged as he wiped the dough from his face and stuck it in his mouth.

“Tastes pretty good,” he commented.

Rude began rolling out the dough while Elena set out an array of cookie cutters. One of her fondest memories from before her mother died was standing on a step stool just to reach the counter and punching shapes in the cookie dough with her mother, eating the scraps of dough she pulled away from the shapes while her mother laughed and smiled. Elena didn’t have many fond memories of her family - her life once her mother passed was a constant competition with her sister for their father’s approval - so she held the few she had close to her heart.

What might have remained of her mother’s cookie cutters had been destroyed with the house she once lived in, but she found her own - a typical set of Yule shapes - and had a custom cutter made in the shape of the Shinra logo. Reno watched Elena and Rude go about cutting shapes, stealing pieces of dough and getting his hand slapped by Rude as he did so.

“What? You’re not using it!”

Rude sighed. “We bunch it up and roll it out again when we’re done cutting shapes. You’re wasting it. Besides, you’ll get sick.”

“Pfft,” Reno rolled his eyes. “I’ve done way worse for my body that stick some raw cookie dough in it.”

Elena and Rude lined a few cookie trays until they ran out of dough, allowing Reno and D to split the last bit that was too small to shape into a cookie, then they set the trays in the oven and waited for the timer to go off.

“I think the boss will really like these,” said Reno. He squatted in front of the oven and peered inside. “Why’s it so dark?”

Rude gave him a pitying look and turned on the oven light.

“Thanks again for helping, guys,” Elena said. “I just wanted something to take our minds off of everything. I wish the director would have let himself relax a little bit.”

“You know how he is,” Reno said, waving his hand.

Rude frowned. “He’s so wrapped up with the boss, he can’t ever really relax.”

Elena nodded sadly. “I know. But if a few minutes arguing with Reno kept him from thinking about geostigma then it was worth it.”

Tseng returned a few minutes later in a fresh suit, wheeling the boss in with him. Elena frowned.

“Director! It was supposed to be a surprise!”

Tseng held his hands out in front of him and shrugged.

“I’m bad at taking no for an answer,” Rufus smirked. “Besides, I could smell something cooking down the hall.”

Half of his face wrapped in bandaging and shrouded by the robe he constantly wore to hide his ever-thinning body, Rufus Shinra looked a far cry from the image of lithe beauty he once projected when he first took office as Shinra’s president. His health had been failing, slowly but surely, and all of the Turks had stepped up to help him, but it was Tseng who bore the brunt of it. When Elena first joined the Turks and harbored her silly little crush on the director, she thought he was too cold to ever return her affection, but she had seen plenty in the last two years to show her just how deeply emotional their usually stoic director could be.

He loved and cared for Rufus with a devotion none of the others could come close to matching.

Even in mixed company, when he would stand tall and straight behind the president’s wheelchair acting like nothing more than a bodyguard, the looks the two men exchanged spoke volumes about their relationship.

Elena felt a little pang of sadness for Tseng. She and Reno and Rude often spent time commiserating with one another, but Tseng spent nearly every moment with Rufus. What would he do when the stigma took its inevitable toll?

“Well, they’re not quite done, but we made some Yule cookies to help get the lodge in the holiday spirit,” Elena explained. “I even made a few in the shape of the Shinra logo…but those are just for us. I don’t want the other residents to feel like-”

Rufus held his hand up, “No explanation needed Elena. It’s a very thoughtful gesture. I’m sure the residents will appreciate it.”

The timer went off and Rude swatted Reno’s hands away from the oven door before reaching in and pulling out the trays of cookies. Reno tried to pick one up, yelped, and cradled his burnt fingers against his chest.

“You know, Reno, for someone as skilled in intelligence as you are, you make a lot of foolish decisions,” Tseng commented.

“That’s a nice way of calling you an idiot,” Elena offered.

“ _Thanks._ ”

Ignoring him, Elena used a spatula to prize a Shinra cookie from the tray and place it on a plate, offering it to Rufus who took it with the best smile he could muster in his state.

“Cookies with the Shinra logo on them,” he chuckled. “Amazed my father never thought of mass producing these in little Stamp-branded bags.” He broke a piece of the corner off and nibbled on it. “Delicious. Where did you get the recipe?”

“It was my mother’s,” said Elena, feeling suddenly bashful.

Rufus nodded and gave her a look she understood at once. They had both lost their mothers at a young age and in their time at Healen it was something they had bonded over. Reno never knew his parents, Tseng left his behind to become a Turk, and Rude still saw his following the dissolution of Shinra as it once was - it wasn’t the same as visiting a grave site every year, which was all Elena and Rufus had.

Rufus flexed his fingers and Tseng grabbed his shoulder, squeezing lightly. Neither of them said a word, but Elena was amazed to see an entire conversation seem to unfold between them in that subtle touch, in the twinge of pain on Rufus’ face and the subsequent calm that overcame him as Tseng offered his support. He looked around the room at the Turks and smiled.

“Have I told you four lately how grateful I am?”

Reno huffed and rolled his eyes. “All right, boss, let’s not get too sappy.” He sauntered over and snapped a piece of cookie from Rufus’ plate. “I’m getting out of here before the waterworks start.”

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Rude hurried after Reno.

“We should get you back to the room,” Tseng said softly. “Your bandages need changing and-”

Rufus nodded and Tseng fell silent.

“I can bring some cookies by your room later if you like,” Elena offered.

Rufus smiled. “That would be lovely. Thank you, Elena”

As Tseng wheeled him out of the kitchen, Elena watched with an odd sense of melancholy. What would next year at this time look like? What would become of the four of them without their leader?

Her entire life had been spent dwelling on the future - would she get into Shinra’s prestigious military academy? Would she outmatch her sister in her grades and performance? Would she make it into the Turks? Would Shinra survive Sephiroth’s return? Would Rufus survive geostigma?

She was tired of living every second worried about what came next.

If only for one day, she wanted to exist here and now, in the present. Where they were all alive and, if only for a fleeting moment, happy.

With a new resolve, she set about making a plate for the residents, leaving behind five cookies - one for herself and every member of her family.


	2. Ski Trip

Tseng had never been skiing in his life. And why should he? He grew up near the hot, humid jungles of Mideel, not that his parents could have ever afforded skiing lessons for their children even if there had been a nearby mountain to ski on. And what use did a Turk have for skiing either? Tseng had learned plenty of improbable skills to survive as a Turk, but skiing never quite made the cut.

Rufus Shinra planned to rectify this.

“I really can’t believe you’ve _never_ been skiing,” said Rufus from his spot beside Tseng. In a chic skiing outfit, complete with goggles and a fashionable scarf, he looked like he had just stepped out of magazine advertising a mountain resort. Then again, Rufus always looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine.

“I don’t think this is good for your legs,” Tseng said.

Rufus ignored him. “You never even went on a skiing vacation for fun?” This was followed quickly by a laugh and a pitying pat on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, I forgot you never had fun before you met me.”

Tseng sighed and struggled to fasten his skis, nearly toppling over into the snow as he did so.

“Falling down a hill at high speeds isn’t my idea of fun. I’ve done it before unintentionally and broken my leg in three different places.”

“This is controlled falling. If you break your leg you’re doing it wrong. Do you need help?”

Tseng glanced up to find Rufus had already fastened his skis and was now leaning heavily on his ski poles looking down at Tseng with a grin.

“You take pleasure in my suffering,” Tseng told him, but he still sat back and let Rufus help him secure the skis to his feet.

“If that were true I would have made you snowboard.”

It was a struggle for Tseng to right himself now that there were two long, unwieldy skis strapped to his feet and for a few seconds he grunted and rocked until he managed to get upright again. Rufus burst into a fit of giggles and slid off along the path toward the gondola.

“You can’t ride up with me,” he informed Tseng when Tseng managed to reach him (after several minutes of struggling against the snow). “You have to practice on the bunny hill. Do you want me to stay and watch?”

“The…bunny hill?” Tseng followed Rufus’ gaze to a laughably small slope where small children were being aided down the hill with the help of their parents and ski instructors. He turned back to Rufus with his brow knitted. “Is this a joke?”

“You’ve never skied before. You have to start somewhere. Look, I’ll stay and watch and make sure you get down all right. If you like I can ride the hitch up to the top with you for support.”

“Rufus,” said Tseng, placing his hand gently on Rufus’ shoulder, “if you ever want me to fuck you again, you’ll turn around and leave me to face this ‘bunny hill’ with what’s left of my dignity.”

Rufus let out a bark of laughter and swooped away on his skis without another word.

The bunny hill was so small that in lieu of a gondola there was a little rotating hitch people could grab onto that would carry them to the top of the slope. Tseng shuffled into line with some difficulty, finding himself between two small children who couldn’t have been older than six or seven.

“You’re too _old_ for this hill,” the little boy in front of Tseng informed him.

“I wasn’t aware there was an age limit,” Tseng muttered, mostly to himself. “How old do you think I am, little boy?”

The child shrugged and said, “I dunno, like fifty?” before grabbing the hitch and zooming up the slope.

The experience reaffirmed two things for Tseng: his desire to _never_ have children, and his abject hatred of sports only rich socialites enjoyed. This was arguably worse than when Rufus tried to get him to play polo because he was forced to endure the cold.

He rode the hitch up to the top of the hill and shuffled awkwardly to the edge. Now that he was on top of the slope, it seemed much steeper than it had from the bottom. Beside him, the child who called him old went sliding down the hill with a whoop, navigating the path with ease and guiding himself back to the hitch.

How hard could it be? It was just controlled falling, like Rufus said.

He hefted himself forward and down the hill and promptly let his skis move too far apart from each other until he was forced to either tumble onto his side or split himself in two. He opted for the former, landing against the smooth, packed snow with a _thud_ and narrowly avoiding hitting his head. His back was not so lucky.

Slightly dazed, he sat up in time to see the same mocking child as before zoom past him and head back for the hitch.

“Well it’s not impressive when you’ve done it a hundred times,” he grumbled.

He glanced up the much larger mountain for any sign of Rufus, but there were so many pinpricks on the snow as people rushed down the mountainside that he couldn’t be sure if Rufus was among them. The thought of such a large and daunting slope after the bunny hill had successfully annihilated him made Tseng’s bones ache, so with a concerted effort he righted himself and made his way back to the top of the bunny hill to try again.

And again.

And again.

He fell nearly every time, leaving behind aches and bruises, and nearly breaking a skiing pole as he went. It was utterly embarrassing that a man who had leaped out of moving helicopters and speeding trains couldn’t handle a tiny slope that proved no challenge for the wealthy toddlers all zooming past him.

Thank the Gods Rufus hadn’t stuck around to watch.

“Uh, sir…would you like some help?” An acne-laden teenage ski instructor greeted Tseng on his fifth time up the hill. “It seems like you’re having a rough time.”

Tseng wasn’t too proud to accept help when he needed it, but he _was_ at least a little too proud to accept help from a girl half his age at a task he hadn’t wanted to try in the first place. When he didn’t immediately answer her, she said,

“Look, just watch me. You have to keep your skis together, but I mean obviously not too close or you’ll get them crossed. Then just push like this.” She slid down the tiny slope with ease and turned to wave at him from the bottom.

With a sigh, Tseng made one final effort, sliding forward on now quite shaky and aching legs, tucking his ski poles up once he started to glide along the snow, and, to his great surprise, he made it down the hill without falling, letting out an unexpected and uncalled for noise of delight at his success.

Rufus returned just in time to observe his achievement, his hair disheveled from his descent down the mountain, greeting Tseng with a broad and absurdly handsome grin.

“Look at that. You’re a natural.”

Tseng immediately frowned at him. “There’s no need to be patronizing.”

“I’m not!” Rufus protested. “You’ve never skied before, that’s all. Think you’re ready to tackle a larger hill?”

The thought of staying in those skis for even a second longer made Tseng want to scream.

“I think I might just head back to the cabin. But if you want to keep skiing-”

Rufus slid up next to him with ease and pecked him on the cheek. “That’s all right. We have the whole week. Let’s go back together.”

Tseng had never been more relieved in his life. After a prolonged struggle with his skis nearly as long as his match against the bunny hill, he managed to get them off and he and Rufus walked arm in arm back to their rented cabin at the edge of the ski resort. As with all of amenities afforded by their lifestyle, the cabin came complete with a stunning view of the mountain and every possible convenience they could need: a large bed with a downy comforter, a fireplace in every room, a fully stocked bar and kitchen, and a bathtub big enough to fit three grown men in it at once.

“Now be honest with me, Tseng,” said Rufus as they stepped into the cabin and began peeling off their extra layers, “how many times did you fall on that hill?”

“I’m afraid that’s classified information,” Tseng replied, stepping through the entranceway into the master bedroom and peeling the rest of his clothes off.

Rufus followed him in and inhaled sharply at the sight of the bruises of various size and shape covering Tseng’s body.

“You look terrible.”

“You always know just what to say to butter me up,” said Tseng flatly.

Rufus clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Let me run a bath. A little hot water will help the pain.”

Tseng hovered in the doorway to the en suite bathroom and watched Rufus run the water. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

When the tub was mostly full, Tseng slipped in and submerged himself to the chin beneath the water. Rufus was right, the heat instantly soothed the dull ache in his muscles and he let out a long, low moan as his hair fanned out around him under the water. Rufus sat on the edge of the tub, half undressed, and ran his fingers along Tseng’s scalp.

“Better?”

“Much. This is how snow is meant to be enjoyed.”

Rufus chuckled, “How’s that?”

“Indoors in the heat where I can just look at it.”

“I think I know something that would make it even better,” Rufus purred.

Tseng was embarrassed by how readily his body reacted to the shift in Rufus’ tone. He glanced up at him and feigned disinterest, watching as Rufus stood up and shed the rest of his clothing, admiring the lines and curves of his body. They both had their share of scars left behind by what they had been through. In the fifteen years Tseng had served in service of Shinra, he had accumulated his fair share, but the largest and most lasting was the length of knotted flesh that ran from his shoulder to his hip: the wound that had nearly cost him his life.

Rufus, likewise, bore the mark of what had almost claimed his. His back was covered in pink and twisted scars left by the burns he sustained escaping that blast that took Shinra Tower. The stigma too, though long gone now, left its mark on his body. His left eye had been badly injured in the blast and what remained of it was taken by the stigma - he wore a false eye in its place now, but a scar remained from his brow to his cheek and his arms were partially scarred by the stigma as well.

For as long as Tseng knew him, Rufus had been vain when it came to his own appearance, but generally unperturbed when it came to others’. Not only did Tseng not mind Rufus’ scars, he found them attractive - a sign of what Rufus had survived, of his strength. Besides, it may have been Rufus’ looks that first attracted Tseng to him, but it was ultimately his intelligence and passion that made Tseng fall in love with him.

Rufus stepped into the tub and curled against Tseng’s side, pressing his lips softly against Tseng’s neck.

“This is nice,” he whispered between kisses. “We needed a break.”

Tseng hummed in agreement and closed his eyes. Rufus placed the flat of his palm against Tseng’s chest and slid his hand slowly down the length of the scar that stretched to his hip. He moved his hand between Tseng’s legs and took hold of him, drawing a small gasp from Tseng’s throat as he did so.

“Gods, I love your cock,” Rufus whispered.

It was a sentiment he repeated often, and while Tseng had never quite mastered returning the lewd conversation in the bedroom, he always enjoyed Rufus doing so.

“I’m sorry you had a bad time skiing,” said Rufus, planting a kiss against the corner of Tseng’s mouth. Tseng’s lips parted in anticipation while Rufus brushed his nose against Tseng’s and toyed with kissing him again.

“It was bound to happen. You know how I feel about sports.”

“I do,” Rufus agreed. “To be honest, it was harder on my body than I thought it would be. I’ve come a long way, but I’m still not who I used to be.”

“We’re not in our twenties anymore.”

Rufus laughed as he kissed him. “Practically ancient.” All the while, his hand moved in a slow, steady rhythm up and down the length of Tseng’s cock, stilling every so often at the head until it drew a moan from Tseng’s lips.

Tseng’s heartbeat throbbed between his legs and he could feel Rufus’ erection pressing against his hip.

“Well, I was mistaken for a fifty year old today,” Tseng said.

Rufus snorted at this and buried his face against Tseng’s neck, peppering it with kisses. “You look pretty spritely for a fifty year old.”

Tseng opened his eyes long enough to give him a withering look before closing them again.

The water sloshed around in the tub as Rufus shifted position, tugging on Tseng’s shoulder until he moved his hips toward him. Once he was satisfied, Rufus pressed their bodies together and brought his lips against Tseng’s, his tongue moving to greet Tseng’s as soon as Tseng’s lips parted. Rufus’ hand moved back between their legs, gripping Tseng’s cock with his own and pumping up and down length of both of them.

“ _Ah_ ,” Tseng gasped and thrust into Rufus’ hand.

Rufus moved his hips as well, the head of his cock gliding against Tseng’s and drawing a moan out of both of them. Tseng gripped Rufus’ hips tightly.

He opened his eyes to find Rufus staring at him, his eyes vivid and intense. He held his gaze, focusing on the pleasure mounting between his thighs, Rufus’ hand stroking both of them to completion, Rufus’ cock pressed against his own.

“I love you,” Rufus whispered, brushing his nose against Tseng’s as his lips parted in another moan.

“ _Yes_ ,” Tseng buried his face against Rufus’ shoulder and tightened his grip on him. “ _Yes_.”

They came within seconds of one another, gasping into each other’s skin as Rufus’ movement slowed to a halt. Then they lay against each other in a post-orgasmic daze for several minutes, the only sound their heavy breathing and the movement of the water around them. Eventually, they both washed up and climbed out of the tub, toweling off just to crawl into bed and curl against each other.

Rufus turned out the lights and turned on the fireplace and they lay together watching as the snow fell in thick flakes outside until it was so dense it obscured their view of the mountain. The warmth of Rufus’ body and the fire at the end of their bed coupled with the steady sound of Rufus’ breathing lulled Tseng to sleep, and he thought to himself that he would have gladly endured a thousand more falls down a thousand more bunny hills for another day like this with the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sappy :) I combined Tuesday's "Let it Snow" prompt with Thursday's "Up to Icicle Inn" prompt for this one. I just like to imagine Tseng being bad at something lmao.


	3. Office Holiday Party

As a matter of principle, Rufus Shinra didn’t enjoy company parties. It had been many years since any shred of Rufus’ playboy persona was authentic, and longer still since he had been able to stomach drunk socialites hovering around him trying to catch his eye in the hopes he might give them even a moment of his attention. They were only interested in money or fame and in lieu of shmoozing his father, who was unreachable at these events, they turned to him.

So he knocked back non-alcoholic drinks disguised as cocktails and put on his little mask in an effort to fit in for as long as he could manage.

The company holiday party was one of his least favorite. Stupid, ugly decorations adorned the banquet hall, everything done up in his father’s gaudy tastes. And while the directors and other upper management enjoyed the open bar, the Turks - all except Tseng - were forced to play security for the evening, watching while their colleagues enjoyed themselves.

His father treated the Turks like they were no better than guard hounds most of the time. Rufus had held a reasonable distrust of the group at one time, before his father made him their ward under house arrest. In the four years he spent languishing in the basement he learned a great deal about the group, and in the process formed a close friendship with Tseng that surprised even him.

Prior to house arrest his relationship with Tseng had been contentious at best. They were both suspicious of the other, and Tseng’s suspicions turned out to be well placed. But even then, when Rufus sometimes hated Tseng, he had always found him attractive. Who wouldn’t? He turned heads when he walked in a room and feigned ignorance to it every time. It used to irritate Rufus, mostly because he was used to being the most beautiful person in the room at any given moment, but now it just made him laugh.

While his men were forced to act as security alongside security officers stationed at every door, as director of the department of administrative research, Tseng received an official invitation to the party as a guest. Tseng excelled at many things. Rufus had learned during his time under Tseng’s watch that he was shrewd and calculating - intelligent, with a sharp wit that often struck out of nowhere. But he was miserable at conversation with strangers when he wasn’t acting on the job.

Presently, he was stuck between Scarlet and Reeve clutching a drink in his hand and scanning the crowd.

That was just like Tseng - he couldn’t relax even when he was off the clock. Of course, Rufus couldn’t exactly blame him. Reno had abandoned his post by the door leading to the balcony and instead stood downing two different drinks and trying to get Rude to take one.

As Tseng scanned the room, he caught Rufus’ gaze and Rufus offered him a faint smile. He was both surprised and pleased to see Tseng return the gesture, the corners of his lips twitching imperceptibly upward. It was embarrassing how Rufus’ chest fluttered at that.

There had been a tangible tension between the two of them during his house arrest as their hatred gave way to uneasy understanding and then to a genuine trust and friendship. Rufus felt there had always been an electricity between them, but it came to a head close to the end of his house arrest when they nearly kissed. Tseng, always the professional, had not let it go so far, but Rufus was certain he wanted to.

They never spoke of it.

“Need me to rescue you?” Rufus mouthed.

Tseng chuckled and Rufus took it as an invitation.

He swept across the room and inserted himself into the conversation.

“I just think the sectors could benefit from less overt security presence,” Reeve was saying. “Undercover officers or Turks-”

“Or we could just install my mechs in every sector to ensure security. Oh, Mr. Vice President,” Scarlet glanced at Rufus as he arrived. “Nice to see you.” Her tone suggested otherwise. “Enjoying yourself this evening?” She looked pointedly at the drink in Rufus’ hand as though he couldn’t smell the alcohol wafting off of her breath.

“I always do,” Rufus replied cordially. “Director, could I borrow you for a moment?” he asked, addressing Tseng.

“Certainly, sir.”

Tseng followed Rufus out the unguarded door onto the balcony. Before he could speak, Rufus turned and said, “Follow me.”

As he knew he would, Tseng followed without hesitation, around the corner of the balcony to where Rufus knew a set of rungs had been built into the side of the building. He climbed up them and heard a noise of concern from Tseng as he followed, up to a little secluded section of rooftop that couldn’t be seen by the party goers. Here, Rufus sat with his legs dangling over the edge and Tseng hovered for a moment before joining him.

“Thank you,” he said. “I was having a pleasant conversation with Director Tuesti until Scarlet arrived.”

“Sounds right,” Rufus nodded. “The image of you trying to fit in with the other directors is too funny.”

“Veld was good at it.”

“Well, you’re twice the man Veld is.”

Tseng’s ears went red at this, which Rufus found incredibly endearing. That a man who spied, murdered, and sabotaged for a living could be so easily disarmed by a compliment was charming - besides that his sincerity was a refreshing change of pace from the usual facade put on by those around him.

“I’m not certain about that,” said Tseng. “But I do try.”

“The good news is, you don’t need to be good at playing political games to keep your hold on your position. You have so much dirt on my father and so much irreplaceable skill that he’d never dream of getting rid of you.”

“Blackmail is a political game of sorts,” Tseng told him. “But you’re right. I’m grateful for it. I wouldn’t know how to play their game.”

“You can leave that to me,” Rufus laughed.

He stared out at the city spread out all around them, twinkling lights blanketing the plate, the bright glow of the reactors marking the barrier wall at the edge of the city. This had been Rufus’ home his entire life, but despite the tight confines of the city limits and the plate, he never felt trapped there. He felt as though he were looking upon an important family heirloom that would one day belong to him, even if his father often dangled it in front of him without any real promise that he would inherit it. He promised himself long ago to take better care of Midgar than his father had.

“What are you thinking?” Tseng asked.

Rufus tore his gaze away from the city and smiled as he met Tseng’s gaze. “Just thinking about a time when I’m in charge and my father doesn’t have a say in how this company or this city is run.”

“Soon,” said Tseng, and he said it with the conviction of a man who trusted Rufus’ abilities completely.

No one had ever spoken to him with as much dedication in his life.

Gods, but he was beautiful. His gaze was so penetrating in that moment that Rufus was sure he could see right into his soul - it made him feel raw and vulnerable in a way he was unused to and uncomfortable with. It wasn’t the first time Tseng had unnerved him in that way. There were things they shared with one another during house arrest that Rufus had never told another living soul and it was those conversations that left him feeling much how he felt in that moment.

Without really considering the repercussions of his actions, Rufus reached forward and tucked a strand of hair behind Tseng’s ear, letting his palm rest against Tseng’s cheek and linger there. Tseng closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh, but Rufus felt the almost imperceptible pressure as Tseng pressed his face into his touch.

“Rufus,” he breathed, “we shouldn’t.”

Rufus brushed his thumb against Tseng’s cheek. “Why shouldn’t we? Is it any worse than conspiring treason together? You make these arbitrary rules for yourself, but I don’t think it’s because you’re afraid of breaking the rules. You broke the rules to save Veld. You broke the rules to align yourself with me. I think you’re just afraid.”

Tseng’s eyes snapped open and he pulled away from Rufus’ touch. “Afraid?” he balked.

“Have you ever kissed a man you cared about, Tseng?”

His brow knitted and he took a moment’s pause before he responded. “No.”

“I think you’re afraid that if you cross that line with me, you won’t know how to handle your emotions. I _care_ about you, Tseng. But I also can’t ignore this electricity between us. It drives me insane! I can’t stand it anymore!”

Rufus stared back out at the skyline, heat rising in his cheeks. The truth was, he was afraid too. He had never trusted anyone as intimately as he trusted Tseng and the thought of crossing a line and risking ruining that trust, even as badly as he wanted to, terrified him. But the thought of never crossing it terrified him even more.

Tseng, typical to his nature, said nothing, but the emotion radiating off of him was palpable.

Several seconds of silence passed between them.

To Rufus’ immense surprise, Tseng was the first to speak. “I don’t know what to do with myself when I’m with you.”

Rufus looked up and met his gaze again. “What?”

“I’m normally immune to charm. It’s my job. I’ve never met anyone who could disarm me like you do and I don’t know what to do with myself. I hated you when you first came under our watch and you managed to worm your way under my skin.” Tseng clenched and unclenched his fists. “Do you know how many times I wanted to bridge the gap between us? All of those late nights spent talking? It’s never been _easy_ with anyone. I don’t excel at socializing like you do. But with you, I just…I never have to struggle with what to say.”

“Tseng…”

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “It’s just uncharted territory for me. You’re right. I _am_ afraid.”

Uncertain of just how to respond to the sudden confession, Rufus simply did what felt natural. He reached his hand out and rested it between them and waited, longing desperately for Tseng to reciprocate. After an agonizing moment of hesitation, Tseng placed his hand on top of Rufus’ and laced their fingers together and that simple act felt more intimate than anything Rufus could recall experiencing. It was unfathomable that Tseng’s warm hands against his own could make him feel that way.

“I guess we’re both out of our depth here,” Rufus chuckled.

Tseng nodded. “Yes.”

“So maybe,” Rufus suggested. “We should just…take it slow. See where it leads us.”

It was a foreign concept to Rufus, whose sexual history largely consisted of one-night stands, but the wait felt worth it for Tseng - for someone he cared about.

“Take it slow,” Tseng repeated. “Doesn’t sound like you.”

Rufus couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Well, maybe you rubbed off on me a little during the last four years.”

In answer, Tseng smiled and squeezed his hand lightly. And for a moment, if just that, Rufus felt wholly and completely at peace in a way he hadn’t in a very, _very_ long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LEWD HAND HOLDING. This was a combo of the office holiday part prompt and the confessions prompt. I was gonna make it smutty but I thought it would be more romantic to leave it at a simple but romantic touch. These little prompts were so nice to kick-start my creativity again and a chance to write something soft and light. Happy holidays everyone! I hope next year treats us all better than this one has, but I'm enormously grateful for this little fandom and the community that's come from it.


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